A Time To Dance
by Gema227
Summary: He would come to regret this. He would come to be angry with himself for leaving her. He would come to be furious at Grissom for simply letting her go. He would come to wish he had never moved at all. /Greg x Sara-Post "Living Doll"/


**A/N: **My usual Sandle angst. A bit sadder than some of my other ones, but bear with me. Please R &R, you know that I fully heart you all!

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His hand lingered on the doorknob, not sure of what to do. Enter? Run away? Just stay put until the rest of the team realizes that he wasn't with them? 

He turned the knob once, than back the other way again. He checked his watch and rocked back and forth on his heels for a minute or two before trying again. This time, he made sure to turn the knob fast enough so that he wouldn't have time to change his mind.

The room was dark. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimly on. He could see her silhouette outlined faintly against the stark white sheets of the hospital bed. He took a step forward, hand out stretched to help him feel his way to the seat near the cot.

Suddenly, his foot knocked against something sharp and a wheel ran over his toe. "Shit!" he hissed, yanking his foot back and upsetting some kind of tray in the process. His left foot tripped over the heel of his right shoe and he flailed his arms in an attempt to regain his balance.

His back hit the floor with a troubling "_smack"_ and he cried out in pain. Great, now the entire hospital was going to know that he was here. He hauled himself, and jumped up and down for a second, rolling his shoulders and trying to relieve some of the numbness that was beginning to run down his back like fire.

"Shit, shit, ow!" he whimpered, trying to keep his voice to a minimum. A movement in the corner of his eye stopped his dance of pain.

She stirred, a confused mumble falling from her mouth. "Wha…Whathehell? Greg?" she groaned sleepily, turning around to face him. "What are youdoinghere?" Her last words were slurred, her head falling back against the pillows as she said them.

"I just…just.." he hopped again, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly, easing the aching in his back slightly. "I just came to see you." He gave a small smile and sat down in the chair.

She turned on the bed so she could see him and Greg examined the scars that littered her face, her arms, her neck. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded faintly, her eyelids fluttering. "Yeah, fine." Sara cleared her throat and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly.

"I wanted to let you know how glad I, I mean, all of us are that you're…" He paused, unable to find the right words.

"Alive?" she suggested, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. He nodded, placing a hand on the railing of the bed.

"We were so scared." He whispered, the underlying context of his words voicing a growing hysteria. His fingers trembled as he placed a hand on her cheek. An awkward silence filled the room and Greg fidgeted in his seat before asking the question that neither one of them wanted to know the answer to.

"Did you tell Grissom about the baby?" Sara's eyes snapped open and her lip quivered for a moment before she responded.

"No."

Greg sucked in an unsteady breath and opened his mouth to ask something else, but she stopped him.

"Miscarriage." That was all she needed to say.

"Oh my god, Sare." He crooned, pushing her hair back from her face. "I'm so sorry." He wanted to say more, desperately needed to say more, but kept his mouth shut, for her sake if not for his.

"I told the nurse about it and she said they could probably do paternity test, if I really wanted." She lock gazes with him, waiting for an answer.

"If you want to."

"I don't."

"Then it's settled. We'll just say the baby was Grissom's, won't we?" She cracked a smile at his cheap attempt at a joke, wincing as one of her facial wounds moved with her grin.

"I almost wish you were the father." Tears were collecting in her eyes and Greg had to fight the desperate urge to wipe them away.

"I might be. If things go the right way, no one will know." He watched the tear roll down her face, disappearing into the strands of brown hair. "What happened that night was a mistake, Sara. It wasn't supposed to happen. It's best that you just forget about."

"But I don't want to."

'Why not?"

"I just don't!" she choked out, sobs tightening her throat. He sat uncomfortably, watching her body convulse with sadness.

Tentatively, almost warily, he stood up. He was probably going to get in trouble for this, but that was the last thing on his mind. Lowering himself onto the bed next to her, her tears reduced somewhat.

Haltingly, he placed his arms around her, holding her to him, wiped her tears away and whispering little things that meant nothing and everything at the same exact time. Yet at the moment, he realized that no matter how close she was to him, no matter how steady her breathing may have seemed, part of her would always be drowning under that car.

"Shh, Sare. It's okay, Sara. You're fine." He murmured into her ear as she calmed. Like the sea after a storm, she was rocky and unsure but for that moment, in Greg's arms, she was fine.

They sat like that for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep. Once he was sure she was too deep in slumber to notice his absence, he got up and walked out of the room, wiping his eyes as he did so.

A few weeks later, when Sara cracked, when she gave in and left Las Vegas, he would come to regret this. He would come to be angry with himself for leaving her. He would come to be furious at Grissom for simply letting her go.

He would come to wish he had never moved at all.


End file.
